


Viper Rock Resort

by kirschteinkyojin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jearmin Week 2015, M/M, Skinny Dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschteinkyojin/pseuds/kirschteinkyojin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'...But it was the way he looked at him, so full of life- smiling immensely with his arms open. Water dripping from his hair and the light of the moon glistening brightly on every single droplet, a promise on his face of security. That he wasn’t going to run away.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Viper Rock Resort

**Author's Note:**

> Wow its finally here, my super late entry to Jearmin Week!! 
> 
> I would have liked to have got it finished on time but I don't want to rush it... I'm super proud of it though honestly I really hope anyone who reads it enjoys it too, thank you!! (Feedback would be much appreciated <3 )
> 
> I'd like to thanks its_konoe for helping me plan this whole fic literally from my phone while I was on holiday and to gigiviv for helping me out with some of the French- I'm sorry if any of it is wrong btw I'm happy to change any mistakes :))

Armin had been at the hotel for two days before they first met. Not that he could account those days to be filled with much enjoyment and rather a simple passing of time in a location proportionately different to his living situation back in England. ‘Oxiá Pétra Théretro’ which Armin believed to have translated to ‘Viper Rock Resort’- ‘resort’ being a term he would use to describe the place most narrowly- was quite possibly the largest and unsubtle physical metaphor for the withering lack of confidence and self-hatred that filled the blonde’s  current mindset.

He had spent the last two years of his life in and out of hospital and subject to excessive amounts of medication as prescribed by his doctor under his parent’s demands. The twenty-five year old wasn’t even sure why he was the way he was at this point. His introverted personality had always left him a social outcast throughout High School, with a very minuscule fraction of friends (or more like people he would make small-talk with between classes), all the way to graduating from the University of Lincoln three years past. From there on the young man was left lonely, in a mediocre flat he could hardly afford with no relevant job opportunities available and a rapidly decreasing amount of funds; and so began his spiral down the world’s shittiest helter-skelter with no clear means of making his way back up to the top.

The one clear and most unshakable trigger for Armin’s collapse, grasping to his brain like an agonising bite from a rabid animal, like the flexible jaws of a viper- was the death of his grandfather. Armin’s grandfather, who he could easily have described as his only _true_ friend and confidant- a person whom he was able to tell anything and who would listen and comfort him no-questions-asked, his one rock and means of coping through all his loneliness- was gone. The heart attack had hit suddenly, and the on-call doctor had told Armin his grandfather would have gone quickly in his passing, not feeling pain for too long. That- Armin knew to be true. Because all and any pain that could be felt in that situation was heavily pressing against him instead. No matter how many times people told him nothing could have been done, that it was an inescapable incident and no one was to blame- the pang of guilt Armin felt was excruciatingly unavoidable and could keep him awake nights on end. Perhaps, part of him thought- that the guilt was not for the death itself- rather that the young man felt culpable for caring more about how alone he had instantly become, instead of mourning the loss of his loved one.

 

Viper Rock was perhaps the most depressing establishment Armin had ever had the misfortune to visit. It was profusely evident that the last-minute online booking he had made had been a scam- upon arrival the pictures he had seen were clearly not even of the same hotel. As to Armin’s previous knowledge his ‘spontaneous getaway’, as described by his feeble-minded mother and father in succession of his latest discharge from hospital, was supposed to be to a 4-star all-inclusive resort approximately 20 minutes walk to Pathos Harbour, Cyprus. Instead Armin was disserted, forced instead to spend a full ten days at god-knows fucking where with no harbour in sight- or anything else for that matter except; what he assumed to have once been a barbers, and a 24-hour mini-supermarket selling knock-off products and over-priced suntan lotion across the street. The picturesque beaches and stunning resort he was promised where replaced with stony coves littered with empty spray-paint canisters and fast food wrappers and a decaying three-floor building pealing with tattered orange paint and reeking of sweat. The only promising factor, Armin had found, was that despite the ridiculous humidity in a hotel with no working air-conditioning- was that the buffet in the ground floor dining room was generally enjoyable to eat and was yet to give him any form of food poisoning. The hotel itself only catered for around 100 people, about quarter of which were occupied- most of these being sleazy businessmen bringing various women to hotel rooms whom Armin was sure where not their wives, or pretentious young travelling groups who seemed to be venturing to multiple locations within land-bound Europe and surrounding islands- using Viper Rock as a hostel and humorous campfire story to tell over and over again a few years down the line.

With this in mind, the relative peace and quiet allowed Armin to spend his days writing outside on one of the few outside deck-chairs not riddled with unknown stains and substances. He wasn’t writing anything in particular, planning first to begin a collection Zoology memoirs on various amphibians and sea creatures to which the blond found most interesting, similar to those he had read at Lincoln, or even a simple diary on his daily routine aboard as recommended by his psychologist. What Armin had been unaware of was how unexpected his irregular escape was to become on his third day.

 

Jean, to his dismay and extreme frustration- was unaware that Viper Rock lacked any French speaking staff whatsoever. He, unlike Armin was aware of the hotel he had booked- not that he cared regardless. Instead only interested in escaping his home of Aix-en-Provence in rapid haste with what little money he had to spare.

Thomas was getting married- Thomas being, up until seven months ago, Jean’s boyfriend of three years when they met in Brignoles at the same job interview for some crappy telemarketing company, both in desperate need of any form of work. Jean had fallen in love fast; he was always one to do so. He’d initiated them moving in together, not that they could afford it. All he wanted was for them to be close- besides; it felt all poetic sleeping on a mattress on the floor in their half empty apartment. That however, all came to an end when Jean returned home early one night from the dingy photography studio he worked at only to find Thomas and some guy called Adrian fucking profusely in the shower. Jean had lost all control in that moment, practically ripping both men from the shower and repeatedly throwing his fist down onto Adrian’s smug-looking face. Only regaining some form of composure when Thomas managed to pull him off the half-incapacitated man on the bathroom floor and telling Jean it was, ‘best if he left’. HIM- out of his own goddamn apartment. Jean had never talked to either of the men after that, only meeting again to remove the little belongings he had so to move back into his parent’s home.

He had managed to carry on in some fashion, to get on with his life, single and at least a little bit happy. That was until a sparkling invitation had been so arrogantly shoved through his letter box one morning; displaying with ‘honour’ how happy Thomas and Adrian would be to have Jean attend their last-minute wedding, ‘all friends were welcome to share in their undeniable love’ after all. The fucking nerve. He wasn’t even sure which of the two had sent it, not that that mattered anymore. The stirring anger within the pit of Jean’s stomach promised retaliation if he had not, by some miracle, managed to calm himself enough to realise leaving the country, somewhere, anywhere- would give him a chance to cool down and forget the man he had once loved being betrothed to someone else back home.

 

Jean stood yelling profusely at Macario, the dark haired, lanky hotel concierge who had no ability to utter one word of French. This wouldn’t have been so much of a problem if only Jean had known any Greek, or even English for that matter.

“Je ne comprende pas c’est que tu disais? Ou ai ma chambre? On ma dit que cetait au troiszieme etage- troiszieme etage!” Jean barked, shaking his hands wildly at Macario who continued to stare idly at him, as if the young man were from another planet all together. Honestly, all he wanted to know was where his damn room was meant to be.

“Your room, second floor.” Macario replies matter-of-factly, pointing two fingers in the brunette’s face with one hand and waving a set of room keys in the other- which from Jean’s perspective, was misunderstood as quite possibly the rudest display of customer service he’d ever known.

“Excusè moi? Urgh, qu’est que j’ai fais pour ca?” He sighed, dipping his head and stretching against the front desk in a pained and stressed manor. Why couldn’t he speak at least a decent amount of English? Jean thought to himself- dropping out of school at a young age really did have its repercussions after all.

Armin, who’d been lazily attempting to read, had heard most of the exchange from his sofa at the other end of the lobby. Not that he understood most of the convocation, having a hard time deciphering the concierge’s limited English himself. But, despite lacking an ability to speak French except the basic one-to-ten number scale and casual greeting, he was able to see clearly that the taller male at the counter- whom to Armin saw to be similar in age to himself- was having extreme difficulty regarding getting checked in. Sighing, he shut his book and made his way over to the rather weathered and tarnished front desk. Only then did Armin finally get a look at the French man’s face: strong jaw- currently tensed, a light brown undercut and matching coloured eyes- although to Armin they looked extremely tired and in need of rest, and a cut on the side of his face- as if from shaving without properly concentrating. Overall he looked intense but oddly attractive in his stubbornness. Without saying anything, Armin put his hand out to Macario asking for the keys. When he easily obliged, having given up attempting to communicate with the brunette himself, Armin tapped the other man lightly on the arm and instructed him to follow with the command of his hand.

The two remained silent on their way up to the second floor, choosing the stairs instead of the temperamental-looking lift, and upon finally making it to the door of Jean’s hotel room Armin dropped the keys into the others hand satisfactorily.

“Merci, je quoi; pouvais vous quoi cet person? Je m’appelle Jean par la manière.” Jean thanked awkwardly, extending his arm in introduction and rolling his eyes as to the thought of the whole fiasco downstairs, at least it’d be nice to have at least someone to have convocation with.

“Armin- but sorry, I don’t speak French.” Apologized the blond, shaking his head before beginning to make his way back down the corridor. “I saw you struggling and my room is just down the hall anyway so...”

Wait, English? What was he saying? Jean didn’t understand, now he really did feel secluded in this place. The confusion he felt inside must have rejected to his face as Armin continued,

“Me- non français.”

With that Jean’s anger rose, he didn’t think he’d mind roughing it at this place until the wedding had taken place, but now it was all beginning to pile on- he had no boyfriend, no one to talk to and he was stuck in this shithole for ten freaking days! He was surly going to go insane before the trip was over, and even after that- what did he have worth going back for anymore? The man grunted in response, unlocking and practically throwing his case into the room before promptly slamming the door behind him violently. 

“Wow, rude.” Armin said aloud, before turning sharply on his heels and making his way back to the staircase.  

 

It wasn’t until the morning that Armin saw ‘Jean’ again. He’d been sat in his newly-claimed deckchair outside by the slightly leafy pool, secluded in the shade as to not burn in the dry heat. He was one of the only other people outside except one tired-looking woman drinking a coffee and reading a magazine over by the dining room patio, and two boys, a few years younger- hungover and half asleep on their own sun beds. The French man traipsed outside about an hour after, clutching a towel and making his way over to one of the deckchairs past Armin. 

“Good morning grouchy.” Armin said in a monotone manner, not looking up from the notes he was writing. 

“Huh?” Jean spun around to face the other, who still hadn’t look up. Making a small ‘tsk’ sound in response, he began dressing down into just the navy swim shorts he was wearing. Noticing, Armin lightly lifted his eyes to see the new acquaintance pulling his shirt over his head, giving him a practically perfect view of his well-sculpted abdomen- and from his perspective Jean really did look impressively built, like he frequently trained or visited the gym… “In?” 

“What?” Armin questioned rapidly pulling his head upwards to Jean’s face, attempting to hide the fact he’d been staring much longer than presumably appropriate. 

“In?” Jean pressed, pointing towards the pool questioningly. 

“Oh, no.” Armin replied shaking his head. “No Swimsuit.” He continued, pointing to Jean’s trunks and then making an ‘X’ with his arms. 

Shaking his head, Jean started for the pool and dived head first, immersing himself completely before returning rapidly to the top and flinging his head back in exhilaration at the refreshing coolness of the water. To Armin the whole moment appeared ridiculously surreal, as if it had just been pulled from the script of a teen-romance film in which the protagonist, for the first time realized their feelings for the glorious specimen in front of them. And if Armin could have said anything in that moment without the other hearing it would most likely have simply been, ‘fuck’. 

 

The dinning room that evening was particularly busy, or at least as busy as it could be. Seemingly most of the travelling groups and other guests decided to eat together at the same time making for an unusually noisy environment. For this reason Armin secluded himself to the corner of hall, away from the buffet carts and near the glass doors leading to the pool patio. Only when he first began to elevate the chicken from the stir-fry he’d been previously picking at for the past ten minutes to his mouth did his lonesome meal become accompanied by a dumb-founded Jean- dressed casually in skinny jeans and a tank-top- who; after plodding around the room for a table for a dubious amount of time, walked directly over to the other chair at Armin’s table. The blond stared mouth-full for a moment or two, waiting for the other to say something as he looked expectedly down at him. 

“It’s free.” Armin harshly swallowed and responded cautiously, Jean appeared to understand and set his meal down and pulled out the chair. Armin observed the man as he sat staring at his dinner for a while, yet to even pick up his cutlery- looking as if he’d never seen a bowl of pasta before. 

“Ce putain suce…” Jean murmured, finally clutching his fork and shovelling a sizable amount of fusilli into his mouth. 

Armin continued to watch the taller man chew his food half-heartedly, before continuing with his own without a word until they’d both just about finished. 

“I guess… I can understand why you’d sit here. You’d want the company, not that I’m much of that… You must be feeling lonely- like no one understands you.” Armin knew exactly what that seclusion felt like, unlike him however it was evident Jean possessed an abrupt attitude towards escaping that separation if at all possible, even if it meant sitting next to complete strangers. Armin had been too scared to approach anyone new out of fear of- well anything, almost all of his life. So why was he talking so freely to a man he didn’t even know? Was it because he was aware Jean wouldn’t know what he was saying even if he were giving his full, undivided attention? 

Jean never answered Armin in any form, but after a few more moments of picking at the remains of his dinner he stood, he looking down at the blond and made a drinking motion with his hand to his mouth. 

“Tu… uh drink?” He stammered, eyebrows screwed looking cautious as to if he got his pronunciation correct. 

“You want to get a drink?” Armin retorted standing from his seat, actually rather surprised by the other’s offer given his arrogant and unthankful attitude only the day before. “Well, I hope you mean a drink together… Otherwise me following you would be awkward.” Armin mussed, accompanying Jean to the exit and across the lobby to the bar on the other side. “Why am I even talking? It’s not like you know what I’m saying... Désolé.” 

To that, Jean tilted his head slightly to look down at the smaller man walking beside him, contemplating what situation he must be in to end up at such a dump the same as himself. And by god what on earth he was twittering on about. He was strange, Jean decided, but oddly a good kind. A kind of strange which neither could be explained nor described in simple terms; yet, all the same made him curious to hear his voice more- made him want to understand what he was saying, what he was thinking.

 “Aren’t you warm in jeans? It’s like over 30 degrees out.” Armin sparked as they made their way over to the bar stools. “Two Carlsberg.” He instructed the mule-faced elderly man working on the bar, who moved exhaustingly slowly between them and the other men Armin assumed to be regulars rather than guests at the other end of the bar. The room itself followed along with the post-apocalyptic theme the rest of the hotel had unintentionally managed to display, looking more like a saloon in a barren desert town rather than a hotel bar. Playing softly in the back of the room was a mixed CD comprised of everything from Jennifer Lopez to the Grease soundtrack, as if it couldn’t decide what mood it was trying to set. The whole room was decorated with mediocre wicker chairs sporting dreary floral cushions which matched both the curtains and the rugs on the floor, all of which Armin could have sworn were an exact replica to his great aunt Margaret’s conservatory furniture. Overall the whole bar was felt sleazy in the heat, reeked of distasteful alcohol and projected all-around disappointment.

“Chaud.” Jean panted suddenly, instantly grabbing Armin’s attention.

“Excuse me?”

“Um…” Jean started wafting his hands in front of his face, pretending to cool himself down.

“OH! Well I said you must be warm in those!” Armin reached out and poked Jean’s thigh, making the other boy jump up in surprise, “Sorry sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Armin shot back waving his hands frantically and repeatedly apologizing. ‘Damn’, he thought ‘what sort of idiot just goes around touching strangers like that’.

At the blonde’s frantic stammering, Jean let slip an uncontrollable grin which soon turned unto a low chuckle.

“Avez-vous jamais arrêter de parler?” He laughed, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Pardon?” Jean paused for a moment, contemplating how to describe what he meant. He pointed to Armin and then lifted his hand making a rapid talking motion with his fingers and grinning in amusement. 

“Oh… sorry…” Armin whispered in defeat, turning his body away to try to hide the fact it’d hurt his feelings. Jean thought he talked too much? “I’m such an idiot” Armin moaned, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand and scrunching his eyes shut in embarrassment, “Like you’d want me rambling on to you- I’ll leave you alone-“ He started, getting up to leave. 

“NON NON!” Jean practically yelled, clutching onto Armin’s arm- the outburst was loud enough to momentarily attract the attention of some of the drunken men at the other side of the bar who gazed over in confusion. Once they returned to their own convocations Jean continued, “C’est agréable… n-nice?” 

“You… think the talking is- nice?” Surely, Armin thought,he was just being kind… wanting to let him down easily as to leave him alone or something shitty like that... 

“Oui, Yes” Jean pressed, looking down to his still firmly grasped hand before quickly letting go and rubbing the back of his neck bashfully,“j’aime ta voix…” The man continued to struggle, pulling his hands away from his mouth to symbolize talking and awkwardly putting his thumb up in the air with a cheesy smile; which, just for a second Jean could have sworn made Armin go a slightly deeper shade of pink than the humidity of the warm evening had already made him.     

 

 

It was the afternoon of Jean’s second full day when he made contact with the undecipherable blond again.

“Aru-meen?” Jean stuttered, looking down at his new travelling companion of sorts. He was still wearing a shirt unlike Jean- who was finding the humidity ridiculous and would likely pass out if he wore anything more than his swim shorts.

The smaller man opened his eyes and squinted up at Jean without moving from his laying position on his sun bed.

“It’s Armin.”

“Oui… Um voulez-vous,” Jean shuffled awkwardly looking around the pool area as if that would give him the words he was looking for, noticing his discomfort Armin sat up a bit and shielded his eyes from the sun as to get a better view of the brunette in front of him, “marcher…walk?… Le long de le plage?” The man looked back at him, making a walking motion with his middle and index finger.

“You want to go for a walk? With me?” Armin queried pointing at his own chest, still partly frightened he’d been getting the wrong message from the other man… over-thinking his attitude as an act attempted friendship… companionship?

Jean simply nodded in response and offered out his hand to pull the other up. Armin, attempting to hide the pinkness rising from his neck at the extension of gratitude, accepted the hand and gathered his belongings into his bag before making his way down the footpath away from the hotel and towards the stony formation of rocks that compromised the sea shore, poorly described by the hotel website as a ‘sand beach’.

The sun was hanging lowly by this time of day- it was still insanely hot but the promise of the sunset was beginning to form within the cloudless sky. The two of them strolled slowly along the stones, close to the waters edge and minding their footing on the unstable rocks. It was about ten minutes before Armin finally spoke up; breaking the silence only interrupted by the sound of slow moving water and friction of rocks against sandals.

“I did one of my papers at University on marine mammals in the Mediterranean. I think my favorite was the Long-Finned Pilot Whale; they use echolocation tactics to help them find food, and tend to stick in packs of around nine to twenty-three. However… when one of their family members falls ill or dies- the others tend to follow suit, kind of taking on the other’s pain as their own… I think I can relate to them that way…” Armin swallowed thickly and dipped his head to not catch the other’s eye.

Jean wasn’t an idiot, sure he had no idea what Armin had just said to him- it could have been anything. However he did know whatever he was talking about must have been heavy, and likely brought back some painful memories for the blond. Jean continued to stare down dumbfound at him for a moment, as if contemplating whether to reach out to him or try respond in some way. Instead he crouched down, picking a flat rock from the floor. He waited until he saw Armin lift his head before curving his body, pulling his arm back and releasing the rock- letting it skim across the water twice before dropping under the water gratifyingly. Jean pulled himself back up and looked down at Armin who continued to gaze, transfixed by the glistening water. Jean couldn’t help admire how the sun reflected off of Armin’s delicate cheeks, creating a soft ivory glow. His whole completion giving off the impression Armin wasn’t a person to tan easily.

“Mon père m'a appris à faire comme un enfant. Nous sommes allés sur un voyage à Lac d'Annecy à Chamonix un été quand je suis à l'école élémentaire.” Jean murmured, smiling subtly at the remembrance of his father teaching him to skim rocks similarly at an early age. That, and also at the fact he felt close enough to someone he’d only just met to tell them such trivial information.

“Teach me?” Armin whispered, as if frightened of what response he might receive. He looked back to face Jean before bending down and picking up a rock of his own and holding it out. Jean smiled, understandingly, and pulled Armin towards him- manoeuvring his body to fit into his own and softly taking hold of Armin’s right hand from behind.

“…faire à la légère”Jean started, pulling Armin’s arm back and twisting his body slightly into his own“comme ça…” he whispered, dipping his head slightly to Armin’s ear, making the blonde’s breath hitch ever-so slightly. Jean hadn’t even intentionally planned on making the whole command as sensual as it sounded- it was just, a sudden instinct on his behalf to be as delicate as possible. As if some loud noise or sudden disturbance would fracture the unexplainable moment that had caught the both of them. Time had near-enough frozen all together, not even the minuscule sound of slow moving waves could be heard by either of them in those few seconds; as Jean tightened his hold of Armin’s wrist slightly and softly let out a breath against the other’s ear. Suddenly, he brought Armin’s arm forward in a swift motion, allowing the rock to fly free and jump across the ocean thrice before ‘splash’ and it had gone.

 Jean had still not let go of Armin, nor had Armin attempted to detach himself from the warmth of Jean’s bare chest against his back, when the taller man looked down to see the other’s reaction. Only then did his heart seemingly stop momentarily, at the sight of Armin’s sparkling blue eyes looking out to the ocean and the small upturn of the corners of his mouth- promising some sort of euphoria to his personality that perhaps was buried deep within him after all. Part of Jean wondered what Armin’s reaction would have been if he’d tried to kiss him then and there, but he chose against it- not wanting to misconstrue the situation… or fall into anything else for that matter, with the thought of Thomas still burrowing into the back of his mind like a smudge that would not go away no matter how hard you rubbed at it.

 For a long while the two of them stayed enclosed like that, until Armin sheepishly came to his senses and detached himself from Jean. They carried on walking a while longer in the heat before Armin pointed to a nearby large rock to take a rest. Only once still did the blistering afternoon heat catch up with the both of them, Jean could feel the moistness of his back and sweat at the roots of his hair, he looked to the side to see Armin rummaging his bag and returning with a hair bobble- tying the shoulder length blond strands messily at the back of his head.

“Pourquoi tu ne prenez pas votre chemise?” Jean joked, pointing to Armin’s white T-Shirt and making a ‘take it off’ motion.

“Oh… No I’m fine.” Armin replied abruptly, reaching to clutch the material with his hands.

“Vous devez être bien si chaud ...” Jean frowned. He reached out the grab the shirt for himself, wondering whether Armin had just not understood him correctly.

“No Jean, I said I’m fine.” Armin replied, more persistently this time and attempted to remove Jean’s hold of the fabric.

“Off!” he grinned jokingly, not understanding what Armin was saying… presuming he was just messing with him“C'est tellement chaud!” 

 “I Said I’m fine!”

“Off off!” Jean laughed pulling harder in an attempt to remove the clothing.

“STOP!” Armin yelled, yanking himself away and standing abruptly. Jean’s face instantly dropped in realisation, he’d totally miscalculated. “I TOLD YOU I DON’T WANT TO SO JUST FUCK OFF WILL YOU!” Jean stared confusedly at him, mouth slightly parted and trying desperately to understand what was going on. Armin sighed deeply in an attempt to calm himself down, “Why am I even bothering? God this is so stupid…”

“I don’t… comprende.”

“Ha, of course you don’t.” Armin laughed sourly, “You know what, it’s my fault. I’m just going to go…” He whispered, reaching back to grab his bag and making his way back down the stones towards the hotel without looking back.

“Armin!” Jean shouted to him, but the blond carried on without even single glance back.

 

 

The next day, Armin was yet to leave his stuffy hotel room, despite it already being four in the afternoon and the whole environment itself being suffocating in its dark blue colour scheme and lack of air conditioning; making the room airless enough so that anyone in their right mind would want to escape to the outside at first daylight. He lay in the middle of his bed, still unmade with his notebook strewn across his chest and staring ominously at the beige ceiling- too awake to go back to sleep but yet too tired to move.

Only when a sudden knock at the door sounded did Armin stir from his comatose state to manoeuvre lazily to the door. When he opened it however the hallway was empty- was someone playing tricks? ‘Like anyone had the energy to do that in this place’ Armin thought to himself. He just began to close it as something on the floor caught his attention. Bending down, he picked up a stone from the carpet; it was the same as those found on the beach. Jean. Turning the rock over he noticed a tag attached to it and written messily in felt tip was, ’24-Hour’. Armin knew exactly what it meant for some peculiar reason; Jean wanted him to meet him at the 24-hour shop across the street.

The mini-supermarket was simply titled ‘Price 4 Less’ and consisted of about eight isles running along each side of the medically-lit store with items ranging from cheaply made ceramic ornaments on one side to wines, beers and spirits at the other. There was only visible person in the store at the time was a young woman working at the till, reading a magazine and singing softly to the casual Greek pop music playing quietly on the radio throughout the store; she didn’t even bother to lift her head as Armin entered. However, the most stand-out factor of the establishment and the one thing that pleased Armin to a considerable degree was the powerful air conditioning which physically took his breath away for a moment as he first stepped through the pre-opened doors. Without moving from the entrance Armin couldn’t see Jean, so he began walking down the middle strip between the isles turning his head from left to right. Perhaps he had misunderstood the message? Armin had made it just over half way down the store, six rows down to the left when he froze, his head craned to see Jean sat on the floor in the middle of the bath products isle consisting of everything from shampoo to deodorants. Armin saw from above the air conditioning vent which made it understandable for Jean to pick such an odd location to meet, being the coolest area of the store.

“Je- I… sorry.” Jean stammered, standing up and looking Armin directly in the eyes, and although his gaze looked determined, Armin could tell behind the front he was nervous, the way his hands were clenched at his sides. 

Armin stood frozen for a moment, unable to take his eyes off the hazel ones staring deeply into him, almost pleading for forgiveness. And for what? Armin knew yesterday’s incident wasn’t Jean’s fault. How was he to know that… well…

 “s'il vous plaît, pardonnez-moi…”

“I’m- I’m sorry too…” Armin croaked, taking a few steps down the isle towards Jean, “I overreacted. It’s just… there’s some stuff, nothing to bother you with. Too much baggage.”

“Baggage?”

“Like… emotional.” Armin lifted his arms up slightly gesturing to his own body and shaking his head solemnly.

“Oui…” Jean whispered, as if he’d understood what Armin meant- he had enough of that baggage of his own. They remained silent for a few moments; both looking to the floor and wondering what else there was so say. Or perhaps what they could say that the other would understand. “Ah!” Jean suddenly gasped, sitting himself back onto the tile floor and gesturing Armin to do the same. After a little consideration Armin joined him, cross-legged on the floor directly opposite him. Jean turned slightly and pulled two plastic bags from behind him- they were imprinted with the store’s name, making it clear he’d just bought the products. Out of the bags he pulled a bottle of cheep red wine, a bag with a mixed assortment of chocolate and multiple packets of crackers along with some pre-sliced cheeses and portions of butter. “Désolé, je ne dispose pas de beaucoup d'argent… Non- money. ”

Armin stared intensely at the display in front of him, eyes moving slowly over everything in amazement. It didn’t make sense. Jean had put all this together for him just to apologize? Why? No one else had ever given him the time of day before… 

“What the hell? I… I don’t understand” Armin could feel himself welling up but attempted to force it back, covering his face shyly with his hands. He didn’t want to start crying in front of Jean, how bloody embarrassing, “why are you being so nice to me?” His voice cracked as he finished and there was no useful attempt at hiding the single tear then fell down his cheek, much to Armin’s dismay. Jean would think him a fool to cry over cheese and fucking crackers.  

“I’M SORRY SORRY!” Jean dived over to Armin, grabbing his face with his hands, his fingers getting caught in the loose strands of Armin’s hair. “I guessed… helping! Sorry Armin… MERDE!” He cursed, dropping his head down sadly “Je gâche toujours tout haut ...” 

“Wha-?” Armin started, dipping his head to try catch Jean’s eyes. “I’m- I’m not upset…hey…” Armin presses, his voice hushed. He lifted his hand and slowly brought it to Jean’s chest, the touch sending an instant warmness up his arm to his chest. Jean lifted his head to meet Armin’s stare, his face was soft but troubled, nothing like how tense he had been back when they met at the reception three days ago. Only at this proximity did Armin realize Jean hadn’t shaven all day, light stubble visible across his chin and jawline. 

“You… not mad?” 

“Non” Armin smiled warmly, something that had become so unfamiliar to him in resent years and just knowing that Jean could bring that feeling back to him was enough for more tears to slip, “I’m happy.” Jean returned the smile, and by god Armin was entranced by it. How heavy-hearted Jean was making him feel sent his blood warming- he was terrified to dwell on it too long however; he’d only known the guy for three days for god’s sake. Armin removed his hand and pulled back, returning to his original seat on the floor. “I guess we should eat this…” Armin sniffed, whipping what dampness was left in his eyes and smiling down at the display in front of him, “Bon appétit?” 

“Bon appétit.” 

 

The two of them talked a little as they ate and passed the bottle of red between them, mainly about the food, sometimes about the store- trivial things like the ridiculous names of discount products like ‘Go-2-Wash’ and ‘Bubble O’Clock’. None of it mattered particularly and it was hard to communicate, most of what they said had to be expressed with their hands or the small amounts of the opposite language they did understand. But it felt worth while, all the extra effort. Simply because they wanted to be in each others company. The mystery of each others lives and reason for being in such a place as Viper Rock was enough to entice them both. 

Once they had both finished Jean delved back into his bag and pulled out a book, an atlas, and spread out the detailed world map on the floor in front of them both. After a moment of searching he prodded his finger down on the map to the south of France. Armin studied the name where his slender finger landed, Aix-en-Provence. 

“Home” Jean said “It’s um… hot- parfios venteux.” He made a ‘woosh’ noise and waved his hands as if it were windy, giggling at how ridiculous he probably looked to the other. 

Armin shuffled around next to Jean so he could see the right way up before studying the map for his own home. 

“There,” he said pointing “Peterborough. It’s always pretty cold…” 

“Peta-bura?” Jean scoffed, screwing his face up in confusion. 

“No, Peter-borough.” Armin snorted at Jean’s poor attempt at mimicking his English. Jean followed him laughing and shaking his head. Armin moved his finger and pointed down again, “Lincoln. This is where I went to University.” Jean leaned in closer to Armin to get a better look, making the blond blush slightly as Jean put his hand on his leg to reach over. 

“Lin-con?” 

“Yeah that’s right!” Armin praised, stretching his legs and arms outwardly- getting numb from being on the floor for so long. Seeing Armin’s discomfort, Jean rose and extended his hand to him. When stood however, Armin instantly became hesitant to let go of the other’s hand and loose the connection. Yet to Armin’s amazement, Jean made no attempt to detach himself from the blond as they stood a moment rather awkwardly before Jean looked down at their hands and entwined his figures with the smaller man’s. Armin was speechless, incapable of forming a collection of words suitable enough for the situation. The gesture, it was a declaration after all. Of friendship? Romance? Companionship? Neither of them was entirely sure… Except, it felt right in the way the touch created an electricity that ran through each others veins at high speed; as if when they touched a broken circuit had become complete. 

Within the silence only then did the sound of the radio begin to come into the foreground of Armin’s mind. The song, he had never heard in his life and was likely never to again- belonged to that of a corny Greek Boyband and completely juxtaposed that of the display of affection the two men were currently projecting through their enlaced figures.

Jean pulled Armin closer towards him, their chests just a fraction apart. He lifted his other hand and ran it slowly down Armin’s side, lacing round and placing it gently onto his waist.

“Okay?” He asked worriedly, wanting Armin’s permission. Armin nodded just enough to see, his heart fit to burst. Frightened the whole experience was a dream and by god he prayed he didn’t wake up. Jean stepped back pulling Armin with him and in instinct the shorter man grabbed onto the others arm to let him lead the both of them across the empty shopping isle. They continued moving forward and backwards slowly, not even trying to keep in time with the upbeat music and just keeping at their own pace, wrapped in each others arms. What did the music matter anyway? Damn, what did any of it matter? The hotel, the rocky beach, the stupid shampoo isle they stood in- none of it. It was as if everything else in the world ceased to exist in an instant and nobody: not Armin’s parents or his doctor or his grandfather, not Thomas, not Adrian, not anyone could ruin this moment for them. For once in that small fraction of time the two of them could be happy with no-strings-attached and it felt _great_. After a while Jean picked up the speed, stepping to the side and even spinning the two of the around easily, making Armin’s eyes widen and the cold air catch in his throat. The whole display probably looked absolutely ridiculous- neither of them could dance particularly well- the whole routine becoming more of an amusing shuffle across the tiles, the thought of someone walking past the isle made Armin’s lips turn upwards once more- the blond didn’t think he’d ever smiled _truly_ this much since he was a small child.

“J’aime quant vous souriez…” Jean whispered, slowly bringing them both to a stop before taking his hand from Armin’s waist to ever-so slightly lift the blonde’s chin upwards to meet his eyes. Armin remained transfixed for a moment, lips parted and his breathing basically non-existent.

That was until, out of nowhere- hitting him like a tidal wave- he was suddenly engulfed with the oddest and most overwhelming jolt of confidence, unlike anything he had ever experienced. All he knew was that this man in front of him had given it to him, and he didn’t even have to know what Jean had said to want desperately to close the gap between them. Armin’s eyes fluttered shut as he stretched up on his toes to meet Jean with a fragile kiss to his bottom lip. Only when he pulled away did he see Jean’s eyes had fallen closed too. Gradually, the brunette’s eyes half opened and gazed down tentatively to Armin’s parted lips. His head dropped down to Armin’s cheek, his breath, shaking and heavy against the flushed skin. Jean tightened his grip of the other man’s hand before he pulled the smaller boy against his chest roughly, brushing his lips softly across the smooth skin of Armin’s jaw before he captured the blonde’s lips with his own. It was urgent this time- pouring with emotions as if he was running out of time on that very spot, terrified Armin would be taken away from him any second. Their lips parted almost in unison, melting together in an ecstasy of sudden passion unlike anything either of them could project with mere words. The kiss was unorganized, their teeth occasionally clicked and their noses bumped- Armin would have been mortified that his lacking knowledge of passion would be a complete turn off if it wasn’t for Jean re-assuring giggles, and his graceful stroking of Armin’s pale skin round his neck to the back of his head; pulling him even closer.

Jean had thought he’d felt this level of desire with Thomas, thought he had understood this peak of emotions- but he was wrong. The desperation he felt to clutch Armin against him, caress him, was completely new and overwhelming. To Armin the sensation was intangible for him to comprehend- he’d never felt as wanted by anyone before, why would he? To Armin it felt illogical for anyone to find comfort of even pleasure within his company; especially someone as dashingly rugged and overall, as capable at life as Jean appeared to be.

One subtle thought however, ominously floated in the back of both the men’s minds; above the blissful sensation of their sun-dried and wine-tainted lips together or the heat radiating form both their bodies from their clasped hands to their chests. It was the painstaking remembrance of where they were; that this… wasn’t permanent. Of course it wasn’t, it was too good to be permanent, the world worked cruelly that way. Yet despite the glaring factor shadowing them both, neither of them dared utter a word- they were allowed to be selfish for a little while, right? And even if the whole demonstration turned out to be caused by the excessive humidity and cheep alcohol, both of them would happily remain this drunk on each other for as long as they possibly could.

Somewhere along the line Armin had brought his hands up to cup Jean’s face; and when their lips finally parted for a long needed breathe, he brushed his thumbs along the harsh layer of stubble.

“Rough… it’s rough.” He murmured, pulling away slightly more. Jean moved his hand back from Armin’s neck and brought it upwards; pushing a loose collection of blond hairs back from his face and tracing down the side gently with is fingers.

“Beau.” Jean whispered intensively, and oh god Armin knew what that word meant. He instantly looked down, turning a deep shade of scarlet from his ears all the way across his face. “Haha!” Jean chuckled deviously before bringing his face down to kiss Armin’s forehead in a swift motion, “Rouge.”

 

 

By their fifth day they had spend pretty much every hour they were awake in one another’s company. Jean had woken Armin up by a knock to his door, inviting him to breakfast before they returned to the rocky beach. To Armin’s surprise he discovered Jean was fond of photography, and brought along a camera to take multiple shots of the ocean, surrounding wildlife, and even of Armin himself. As best he could the blond talked of his fascination with marine life- picking up shells from the ground and describing their origins to Jean. They would kiss slowly and sentimentally, hold hands and rock back-and-forth in tight hugs, feeling enriched and peaceful in the embraces. This lasted for most of the day, before they returned to the hotel as the sunset for some late dinner. They two of them sat on the patio that night to eat, in the deep orange light of the burning sun’s last remaining moments of the day.

It was empty outside by the time Jean first brought forward the offer. The other guests had ether retired to their room, the bar or somewhere else entirely.

“Voulez-vous rafraîchir dans la piscine?” Jean suggested, pointing towards the empty pool with a raised brow. The light water illuminated subtly by the new moon’s white glow, looking far more inviting than it ever had during the day, in the presence of other hotel guests.  

“I wasn’t lying; I don’t have any swimming trunks” Armin replied, taking a sip of his beer “Besides… I’m not, well…” He trailed off, rubbing his stomach cautiously. Jean studied his hands movements curiously, contemplating what the shorter man could be implying. He was as hesitant to removing his shirt as he had been at the beach- was he unconfident about his appearance.

‘Fine’ Jean thought to himself, ‘I’m not going to let Armin feel uncomfortable about his appearance alone- might as well make us both vulnerable’.

“No trunks?” Jean mused, standing and kicking off his shoes “Not problem!” The brunette lifted his hands and started unbuttoning his shirt, throwing it onto the chair when it was off.

“W-what are you doing?” Armin stammered as Jean moved his hands up to his shorts and unzipped them rapidly, before pulling them and his boxers off in one swift move. “Ohmygodwhatareyoudoing?” The blond averted his eyes and frantically looked about to see if anyone else was around. Thank god there wasn’t.

“Je ne vais pas dire à se déshabiller si vous ne voulez pas. Mais je refuse de laisser vous vous sentez gêné de la façon dont vous regardez. Au moins pas sur votre propre.” Jean preached, throwing his arms out and stepping backwards towards the pool. 

“Please tell me you’re not gonna-“And the brunette rapidly spun and sprinted to the pool’s edge before canon-balling and creating a massive splash of rippling water. Armin’s face was bright red, his mouth hung open in shock. ‘What on earth was he doing?’ He panicked ‘If he got caught…’ 

Jean resurfaced in exhilaration, shaking his head rapidly like a dog before grinning wildly at Armin- still sat mouth agape from his seat on the patio. 

“No! No way!” Armin yelled over, making a massive ‘X’ with is arms “I can’t do that.” 

“Sûr que vous pouvez!” Jean bellowed, “... Troost me!”  Armin gathered he was attempting to say to trust him, yet that wasn’t exactly what was bothering him. It wasn’t that the man felt bashful at the concept of nudity, or was particularly frightened of the consequences if either of them were to be caught butt-naked in the hotel pool. In fact, both of those things excited Armin to a considerable degree, either one would lighten up the atmosphere of the depressing surrounding currently ensnaring the both of them.

 It was the thought of letting go of his defence. His mask. It may have just been a piece of fabric covering the top of his body, but it was the only thing shielding Jean away from the ugly truth Armin held secret. A secret he’d tried desperately to keep from everyone, even his doctors. Everyone would judge him for it, or so Armin believed. Jean would think him foolish, think him broken and not worth fixing.

 But it was the way he looked at him, so full of life- smiling immensely with his arms open. Water dripping from his hair and the light of the moon glistening brightly on every single droplet, a promise on his face of security, that he wasn’t going to run away.

 Armin breathed out heavily, standing from his chair at an incredibly slow pace, making one small step at a time towards the pool, leaving his sandals behind. He was shaking; he could feel it- wondered if Jean could see it too. When he reached the edge, close enough so that the water of the pool delicately graced his toes. It was cool, it felt inviting. The blond sighed once more, gradually bringing his hands up to the waistband of his shorts. It seemed illogical, to remove them first, but it wasn’t that what was keeping him hesitant. He stood a long moment, clad only in his V-neck, looking down nervously at Jean. The brunette stood transfixed, his arms gliding atop the water to keep afloat. His mouth was closed and expressionless, but his eyes were comforting as in saying, ‘come on, it’s okay’.

 Armin released one final breath, deep out his nose- his arms shaking madly as the clutched the fabric between his fingers. This was it, could he do it? He wasn’t sure but in a final act of all the courage he could muster, Armin lifted the shirt over his head and slowly released it to the floor- discarding his last means of protection, rendering him vulnerable.

 Jean’s eyes cautiously ran down the blond from his polished collarbones down to his abdomen- it was thin and fair like the rest of him, seeming almost like clear porcelain well, that was except… one… five… seven… more, lashes carved roughly in at every-which angle. They were all old wounds, some embedded deeper than others. He knew what it meant, he’d never need to ask- not that he thought Armin would be in a position to tell him anyway. The taller man gazed sadly at them, contemplating how awful Armin must have felt to do that… it made his heart ache something terrible. He looked back up to study Armin’s face, he’d craned his neck away looking down at down at the still water surrounding Jean- his expression was that of well, nothing. The monotony of it all was enough to terrify Jean.

 “Armin,” He cracked, tilting his head to catch the other’s eyes “viens ici…” He lifted his arms up, offering him to come down. The blond turned back slowly glancing at the open arms tiredly. He scrunched his eyes shut and opened his mouth just a fraction- 

“Okay.” He slipped out, almost inaudibly. Then he let his body fall straight down into Jean’s. The other encased his arms around him rapidly, stepping back a little as to steady them both. Armin returned the gesture, cloaking his smaller arms around Jean, his hands clutching to his shoulder blades desperately. Jean pulled him in even tighter, burying his face into Armin’s hair and neck. It didn’t even cross his mind how erotic the whole act could be seen, their nude bodies pressed tightly together- he just had to tell him somehow, even without words, had to let Armin know that it was _okay._ That Jean understood and he wasn’t going anywhere regardless. 

The two of them stayed like that seemingly forever, intertwined together within the water, not saying a word to each other- the only sounds being their shaky breath against the others skin. Jean waited for Armin to let go, when he knew he was ready. He retracted his hands from Jean shoulders, resting them at his forearms and looking up at him expectantly.

“They’re not recent... The last time I did it was when I was nineteen.” He croaked- his voice hoarse and wobbling. Jean didn’t really understand what that meant, and couldn’t articulate an appropriate response, so he instead settled for dipping down and kissing the tip of Armin’s nose delicately, showing he cared. “Urgh” Armin sighed sarcastically, the faintest upturn on his lips presenting itself, to which Jean was ecstatic, “you’re ridiculous…” He burrowed his face into Jean’s chest, his hair lightly tickling Jean’s skin. “Oh and by the way… this water is fucking freezing.” He hissed playfully, pushing back and grazing his hand over the water, letting it bounce into Jean’s face. 

“Oi!” Jean mocked annoyed, splashing even more water back at Armin. They carried on like that, dusting the water at each other, laughing and chasing one another around the pool. It was a gorgeous thing for Jean to see, Armin grinning and laughing loudly even after what had just happened- allowing himself to forget about all the reasons behind the scars covering his stomach and dousing himself in the joy of the other’s company, he’d never felt as relaxed before in his life. He could have just kissed that smile over and over again, relish in its simplicity for all it was worth.  Soon enough Jean caught up to Armin, grasping hold of his waist and hoisted him above his head. 

“JEAN! DON’T!” Armin yelled, fighting through laughter and attempting to weed his way out of the other’s arms.  

“BYE BYE!” The taller man squawked, throwing Armin back down into the water with great force. Armin became immersed completely before resurfacing, gasping for air. He laughed hysterically at Jean’s ominous words, pushing his wet hair behind his head, giving Jean a perfect and unobstructed view of his sparkling Tiffany eyes.

“Come ‘er you!” He hummed, pulling Jean down to capture his mouth with his own. They tasted slightly chemical from the chlorine but Armin made no objection when Jean deepened the kiss, subtly slipping his tongue into his mouth.  

When they broke away Jean smiled warmly and wrapped his hands around Armin’s slender hips, rubbing slowly with his thumbs. He began trailing pecks along Armin’s jaw, slowly making his way down his neck and sucking at the skin roughly making Armin groan quietly and tighten his grip of Jean’s arms.  

“Voulez-vous…” Jean started between kisses, “aller à l'étage?”  

“I- I have no idea what you are saying…” Armin sighed, leaning his hips into Jean making the other man gasp, “but _yes._ ”

Jean chuckled deeply, kissing Armin’s cheek again, “Room?” 

“Oh…” Armin retracted, looking Jean in the eye in shock. 

“Tu… no have to-” The taller man stammered, suddenly frightened he’d gone too far. 

It wasn’t exactly that Armin was nervous, he’d had experience at Lincoln- lazy hook-ups with people from his class, and he could guess easily enough Jean had had plenty of his own. It was more, the fear of afterwards. He was leaving in five days. Five days and he was already in too far over his head as it was… would he really be able to let Jean go after experiencing _that_ with him? It would be easy enough to say ‘here’s my number, I’ll call you’ but then what? Armin was poor as fuck, he could hardly afford to pay his rent never mind leave the country- the only reason he’d made it to Cyprus was with the ‘generosity’ of his parents… not that he could pretend to not be thankful after how it had turned out. But even Jean had expressed his lack of funds only the day before- could he even afford the trip either? How did Armin know he would be able to cope with such a distance separating them, after becoming so intertwined? Wouldn’t it just be easier to let of Jean now, before it was too late- rather than let himself loose someone so important all over again?

“No” Armin blurted without thinking, “I-I want to.” Because fuck it was true he did… but was he really willing to let himself potentially fall in this deep? Would saying yes even make any difference at this point? It was too late to deny it, his body had become far too engrossed in Jean’s, the way he was holding him, the way his lips meted into his own, it was far too indulging to turn away… 

“Want to?” Jean confirmed, making sure he’d understood correctly- trying to force down the pang of excitement rising within him. 

“Oui.” Armin grinned, throwing his arms around the brunette, kissing him roughly. 

 

Soon enough Jean pulled away and the both of them made their way to the edge of the pool, they clambered excitedly over to their clothes- both dripping wet and without a towel- drying best they could by patting themselves down with their shirts before rapidly pulling on their underwear. Before Armin even had chance to pull on his shorts Jean had grabbed his hand and set off running inside to the lobby, clutching the rest of the clothes under his other arm. 

“Jean!” Armin gasped, his short legs struggling to keep up as they streaked through the lobby towards the staircase in literally just their boxers. 

“Hey!” They heard in the distance, the voice sounded like Macario but neither of them could be sure- Jean had already begun tugging Armin up the staircase excitedly and they were both laughing like madmen, tripping over and crashing every time they turned a corner. The exhilaration was overwhelming; Armin had never felt so free spirited. The way the warm humid air brushed against his damp skin, the way that Jean clutched onto his hand comfortingly like some sort of security blanket- it all seemed ridiculously poetic. They were running like naughty school children, sliding down the corridor in an act of rebellion- and glancing at Jean’s ecstatic face as they hurried the last corner down to the brunette’s room, it appeared to Armin he felt the exact same jubilation. 

The two of them grinded to a halt when they reached Jean’s room door and hurriedly he rummaged the pockets of the shorts in his hand for his room key. Once unlocked and inside Jean threw both their belongings down at the door and hoisted Armin up over his shoulder to the blonde’s weak and joking protests. The room was nearly identical to Armin’s, from the colour to the exhausting heat, the only difference being how much messier it was in its upkeep, clothes and bags thrown over every chair a hook available. Jean tossed Armin down central onto the bed and climbed on top of him, kissing him desperately between laughs, not giving a damn about the water still dripping from their hair, dampening the bed sheets.He made his way down, planting hard kisses all along Armin’s neck and collar bone making him sigh deeply in content and clutch hold of the sheets. Jean kept sinking down leaving a trail across Armin’s chest down… down to… his- abdomen? Armin hoisted up slightly in shock, propping up on his elbows. Jean glanced up, not moving and still holding firmly onto Armin’s sides as he began brushing his lips against the blonde’s stomach- across the lacerations surrounding his bellybutton. 

“Y-you don’t have to do that…” Armin whispered, his eyes widened in disbelief. Jean simply smiled against the skin and continued downwards towards Armin’s navel and oh god- he, he stopped? Armin pulled himself upwards even more to a sitting position, his eyebrows contorted in confusion.

“Are you okay?” He asked worriedly to Jean who turned his back and began rummaging the dresser by the wall at the foot of the bed. Out of nowhere a massive white flash appeared, stunning Armin as Jean swirled around on the balls of his feet. When Armin’s vision unclouded his mouth dropped in amazement at what Jean held in front of him. “You, you have a Polaroid?” He gasped; looking down at the boxy contraption nestled in Jean’s hands. He had a Polaroid, and a really old looking one at that. Soon enough an image slid from the dispenser and Jean handed it to Armin. The picture was blurred and the filters were running, creating splodges of orange colour about it, but there Armin was in the centre, a priceless confusion on his face and oddly the scruffiness of it made the whole image seem artistic in an odd way. “That’s so cool…” The blond mused, handing the picture back to Jean who promptly licked the back of it and stuck it to the mirror hanging just above the dresser.

Armin returned his head down to the duvet as Jean climbed atop the bed again, first straddling the blond and looking through his lens before standing up, his legs either side of Armin’s hips and pointing his camera downwards to the blonde’s bare chest and face. The redness in Armin’s cheeks increased dramatically- what did Jean want him to do, pose? How? Given the rather erotic situation one method seemed appropriate. Slowly, Armin awkwardly lifted his arms, placing them loosely above his head, and parted his lips slightly- staring intensely into the lens of the camera, directly into Jean eyes. He couldn’t lie to himself however, he felt ridiculous- Armin was far from being a master of seduction and from the way Jean bit his lip in attempt to hold back a laugh, he agreed. He pulled the camera slightly away from his face and shook his head smiling softly before sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes in a ridiculous manner, making Armin burst out into a high-pitched laughter. Hastily Jean pulled the camera back up and snapped a picture. 

“Ce fut le premier appareil photo de mon père me l'a donné…” Jean murmured nostalgically as he stepped off the bed and placed the Polaroid on the table; thinking back the day years ago when his father had come home with a bag, holding it out to Jean. Inside the camera, his first ever.

 Armin watched the man, transfixed by the curves of defined muscle in his back- bending and contorting as he delicately placed the camera away and stuck the new photo alongside the other on the mirror. Armin crawled to the edge of the bed and stood, stepping over to Jean and wrapping his hands around his waist- kissing lightly at the area between his shoulder blades. The taller man spun and hoisted Armin up, carrying him towards the edge of the bed sitting down allowing the blond to straddle his waist.

“Armin… Sure- okay?” Jean asked worriedly, bringing his hand up to cup the side of Armin’s face. 

“Oui.” Armin breathed, meeting the other’s lips once again.  

 

 

It would have been easier to say they both regretted their action straight away. That their small act of self indulgence had changed them in such an unfathomable manner it was impossible for them not to feel guilty. But they didn’t. Jean and Armin were already unwilling to let go of something they had only just discovered, both craving the companionship of another human being so much that no degree of self control could prevent them from selfishly allowing themselves fall deep into their one-week summer romance. It was ridiculous, become so emotionally attached to someone after knowing them for such a small amount of time. How could they possibly say they were in love of all things? Armin knew nothing about Jean’s past, of his childhood or of Thomas and Adrian; Jean knew not how Armin had fallen into such a state of turmoil only a few years prior, of his grandfather and his relationship with his parents. But god they had learnt some much more about one another- small technical things that wouldn’t make much sense to anyone else. How Jean would wash his body before his hair because he didn’t mind if the water had become cool by the time it came to his head. The way Armin would hold the teabag delicately between this thumb and index finger when making a drink. How each of their bodies moved and reacted to subtle touches. Simply the way they were able to communicate physically with their bodies, each placement of their hands and lips holding different meanings. All of these things felt far more personal and stimulating then knowing the practical details.  

They spend the next four days in each other’s company this way: talking and walking, smiling and laughing, making love. It was as if every other thought in the world had disappeared, all that was left was them and Viper Rock- their own blissful, yet disastrously cheep oasis. It all appeared perfect, it could have been never-ending and nether of them would have argued. 

Except it wasn’t never-ending. It was Saturday night, Armin was leaving tomorrow morning. He hadn’t made the effort to tell Jean explicitly, although he could imagine the brunette knew full-well their days were shortening by the way his hold of the blond had gradually tightened. They were lying bare and lazily in the dark atop Jean’s bed, the room pretty much becoming shared with Armin after the night at the pool. They faced each other, silent and gazing at one another with drooping eyes, threatening any moment to fall asleep. Their hands rested interlocked between them, simply a gesture to ensure the other person was still there- and when Armin’s eyes drifted down to their interlocked fingers he couldn’t help but release what was probably a mixture between a sigh and a sob. Jean’s eyes instantly widened and his head dipped cautiously towards the blond in worry. Armin shook his head, silently and forced through a smile as to play it off as nothing and leaning forward he kissed Jean on the corner of the mouth. He moved his free hand up to the brunette’s cheek and smiling sadly he choked,

“I-I don’t want to leave…” 

Jean’s eyebrows dipped in confusion trying to understand what he was saying. 

“Never mind.” Armin shook off, turning around to fit his back against Jean’s chest so that the other could wrap his arms around him. It didn’t take long for Jean to drift asleep after that, his slow breaths gently tickling the blonde’s ear who spent what seemed like hours trying desperately to stop himself from shaking with grief.    

 

Armin never woke Jean up to say goodbye the next morning. Even if he had, he was sure no formally communicated words or body language would express all of what he wanted to say. As quietly as he could he planned to escape the room to pack and get downstairs for his early bus to the airport. He could have easily just left without leaving anything behind at all, but knowing just how it felt to loose someone without even a single warning, Armin could not be so cold hearted and just go without some form of goodbye. Tearing a page out of the notepad he’d been using for writing; he shoved the note under the brunette’s hotel door he’d spent the last few days writing rapidly in secret while Jean was pre-occupied- before leaving down the corridor without turning back long enough to regret it.    

 

 When Jean eventually stirred from his sleep the other side of the bed felt cold. Which was odd because usually scorching heat would have made everything in the room warm to the touch, but instead the empty left side of the bed just radiated a chilly apprehension in such a disturbingly glum manor it felt as if someone had died in that very room.  

As much as he would have liked to, Jean couldn’t be naive enough to presume Armin had simply returned to his room or gone downstairs to the pool. He knew instantly what the emptiness of the bed meant. Jean continued to sit up in the bed for a long while, biting roughly on his thumb and staring lifelessly at the barren patch of mattress next to him. He felt numb for a while, undeceive in himself as to whether he was ready to start bawling, but nothing was there. Then he felt angry. Angry at himself more than anything, what could he blame Armin for when he had initiated the whole thing; he invited Armin to his room, he took him to the pool, he planned dinner at the corner shop, he asked Armin to go for a walk along the beach, he sat with him that evening…

God, he knew in himself that he was a fool. He had promised to change- to not fall in so deep the way he had with Thomas. To distance himself just enough so that he could let it go in an instant, to avoid that level of pain again. And yet here he had gone; only fallen for someone he didn’t even know the last fucking name of. Jean had always been one to love too fast, he knew it. He just adored people and he adored them being around him. He needed to be talked to and acknowledged, he needed companionship. The only problem was fate had pulled him towards someone who may have needed that feeling of love and affection even more than he did, before cruelly taking him away.

 Jean was angry because he knew Armin would be alone now, and how was he supposed to help him if he had gone? He was angry because he knew in himself that he wasn’t alone. He had family and friends back home away from Thomas. Yeah, he’d be okay… but how could he know Armin would? Jean didn’t know if he had family, if he had friends, all Jean knew of was the scars on his stomach that frightened him more that he wished to think of. 

Jean was angry because he didn’t understand why Armin would be stupid enough to leave on his own when he knew he couldn’t handle the loneliness that partnered it.  

“PUTAIN!” The man clutched the quilt of the bed in his hands and threw it rapidly to the floor at the other end of the room; and croaking out a small sob, curled down on the empty bed, his head in his hands. Only when he finally lifted his head a fraction did the brunette’s tear-stricken eyes catch a glimpse of something white by the door.

Sniffling, Jean slowly rose from the bed a plodded helplessly over to the white object, a piece of paper upon closer inspection. He reached down and picked it up, a letter. It was obvious who it was from, not that the man could read a single word of it- it would have to wait until he got home to translate the content. Two more days at this place, sleeping lazily at the leafy poolside and sitting in the shitty bar alone, luke-warm beer untouched in front of him, staring absently at the floor with no opportunity to speak to anyone- bombarded by the contrapuntal sound of ABBA cascading into his eardrums. Two more days and he would know what Armin from Peterborough had wanted to say to him.

 

*******

 

The next year was fucking hard. Armin had regretted his decision as soon as he’d landed home, as soon as it really struck him that Jean was gone- that he’d never see him again. Why hadn’t he just tried to talk to him, tell him that they could figure it out somehow? He had laid awake countless nights with that thought running through his head even though he already knew the answer. Armin couldn’t tell him because some stupid part of him still thought it was all a fling. Because no matter how Jean touched him or tried his hardest to speak in comprehensible words- Armin could never truly understand why he’d bothered to treat him like he was worth something in the first place.

In such, his letter wasn’t exactly a goodbye message. Partly it was a thank you; a thank you for treating him like a human being and not some broken toy, a thank you for making what would have been the most depressing week of Armin’s life into the first time he’d ever felt truly alive.  

The rest of the letter was in some form, a test. Not just for Jean but for Armin as well. A test to determine if the week they shared meant anything to Jean and a test for Armin to focus on the things worth waking up every morning for. A goal to strive for, a promise to return. If Armin could hold out for one year; one year without Jean and if Jean cared enough to return, that he hadn’t just thrown the letter away in anger before finding out what it meant- then they would both return to Viper Rock exactly a year later and see each other again. It seemed like a ridiculous plan- idiotic even, how would Armin know Jean had even read the letter? He didn’t. All he could do was to trust Jean once again, trust that he wouldn’t run away the same way he didn’t that night by the pool, and then maybe, maybe they would have a shot.   

 

Viper Rock Resort was an abysmal establishment. How on earth it was yet to close down Armin would never understand. By the time Armin had returned not one thing had changed. The playlist in the bar was still the same, the leafs which continuously fell from the trees into the pool were still the same, Armin’s room was still the same- even Macario with his dull and dismally long face was still the same. Upon checking in Jean was the first thing Armin attempted to ask the concierge about; although to his dismay only then did it become apparent no amount of English or newly-acquired French could explain to the Greek-speaking Macario what he was trying to say. Instead, coming to the point of harassing the poor man by continuously yelling ‘JEAN’ in his face enough so that Armin gave up in his feeble attempt and trudged upstairs to his room. Turns out he happened to be on the second floor again, just a couple of doors down from both his and Jean’s old ones. The blond even made a lousy attempt of knocking on the French man’s old door just to see if by some miracle he answered. Apparently not. He could see Jean later on, perhaps even is flight was not until later tonight. Armin tried to remain hopeful but the pang of pathetic-ness resting heavily in his stomach kept telling him otherwise.

Nonchalantly, Armin unpacked his belongings into his now hotel room, hanging his clothes lazily on hooks and shoving other belongings into various draws. Only upon unpacking his wash-bag did he notice, 

“Shit.” He whispered, rummaging around the pouch for what he was missing. Shampoo, of all things. Armin begrudgedly locked up his room and made his way downstairs to the ‘Price 4 Less’ across the street. Upon arrival Armin was met with the sentimental sense of the icy breeze which did nothing short of take his breath away once again. The shop still looked exactly the same, only difference being there were other people inside this time, absentmindedly mooching around the store: either holiday makers the same as himself- looking for forgotten items and cheep sweets to take home to the office, or elderly locals- slowly hobbling each isle in search of weekly produce items.  

Armin sighed fondly of his memory here, it felt so long ago now it could all have been some strange hallucination he had. But god he could remember so vividly, the way they danced, how the cheep and bitter wine had tasted, what Jean’s lips felt like against his own- it was all too real in Armin’s mind to be a dream.  

He moved forward on impulse, knowing exactly where the shampoo would be located; six rows down, to the left. Six rows down to the left Jean and Armin laughed jokingly at their whole situation. Six rows down to the left Jean had whispered so sensually to Armin it made his knees weak. Six rows down to the left Armin had experienced that first drop of courage to reach up and kiss the person he had loved in a week.  

Armin froze. A man stood towards the end of the isle- looking down at a selection of body wash products, ‘Go-2-Wash’ in his hand and is eyebrows contorted in an adorable confusion. He was clean shaven and smartly dressed in a green polo shirt despite the 35 degree heat, his hair was a little bit longer than before… 

“Jean?” Armin whispered, as if frightened he was mistaken. His face must have been have been a picture in that moment, his eyes like sparkling crystals, threatening to produce tears, and his mouth parted in shock, his breathing gradual yet shaking.  

The way the man at the end of the isle’s eyes widened a little upon the air-cutting squeak of Armin’s voice- delicately he placed the body wash back on the shelf and agonisingly slowly turned his body- almost as if he was scared the surrealist moment would end if he glanced up in too much atonement. It was him. 

“H-hello.” His voice was cracked, his English outlandish but trying. Jean took a few steps forward, slowly making his way towards the Armin who’s feet were locked down. Jean was transfixed- his face and body projecting an utter mix of bewilderment and in some ways, nauseating. As though the man was practically ready to faint in shock. He was so close to Armin now, by the time he stopped he was within the perfect proximity to reach out and touch him; although he feared it, that the person in front of him was nothing more than an apparition ready to dissolve at any second.  

Jean was right there. Armin was right there. He had cared. He had pulled through. They were together. 

“Bonjour.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! I'd been listening to Destination by The Soorleys while writing some of this which I have absolutely fallen in love with, here's the link- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4Q45uKG3A4


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